


It Almost Looked Cool

by Captain_Dogfish



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Just Stupidity, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Dogfish/pseuds/Captain_Dogfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Runner 5 and the stupidest idea they ("they" meaning Sam and Simon) ever had</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Almost Looked Cool

“You’ve gotta try it.” Sam nods, like this sums up the entire discussion we’ve been having for ten minutes.

“It’s a terrible idea, you’ve _got_ to do it.” Simon nods enthusiastically along with him, before adding “don’t be a chicken, Five, just try it.”

“You two are _not_ helping!” I say, trying to act stern but failing miserably. “You just want to see me land on my ass.”

“It would be funny,” Simon acknowledged. “But think how cool it would be if you stuck the landing.”

“Please, Five?” Sam asks, breaking out the puppy-dog eyes. I don’t know why he’s so interested in making me do this. He’s probably got a bet on with Simon.

I sigh, back up a few feet. Stupid dares are my specialty, after all. “Stay out of my way.”

Sam cheers and Simon whoops, scrambling to get out of the way. I finger the spear Simon gave me a little gingerly. Well, spear might be a strong word for this particular contraption. Knife-strapped-to-a-stick-with-spit-and-glue seems like a better description. “You sure this thing won’t break on me, Simon?”

“I’m offended you think my duct tape skills are subpar, Five.”

“What even inspired you to make this, anyway?”

“Do you know how incredibly hot I’ll look when I go for my next run wielding that thing? Especially if I dress for the part.”

“Jody’s not gonna help you revamp one of her skirts into a kilt or toga or whatever the hell other bad fashion-idea you have.”

“That’s a low blow, Five. You know I’d look fabulous in a skirt. I was gonna ask Maxine to share some of the paint you brought back for Demons and Darkness. I betcha I could pull of war paint. You could put it on me, Five! Admit it, you’d like to paint me!”

“I’ll only put war paint on you if give me the paint while saying, ‘Here, Five, paint me like one of your French girls’.”

Both of them bust out laughing. I glance around to see if we’re attracting attention, but there’s very few people hanging around the training area right now. It’s probably a good thing. Heaven knows Janine would spoil our ill-planned fun with “rules” and “safety concerns” if she knew what we were up to. Still snorting with laughter, Simon waves a hand in my general direction. “Get on with it, Five. No more stalling.”

I sigh, readjust my grip on the spear. “My dad used to have this line he’d say. Whenever he did something random or mildly dangerous. You know what that line was?”

Sam looks genuinely curious. “No, what was it?”

“He used to say, ‘hang on, I’ve seen this in a movie’!”

Dramatic flair complete, I sprint forward and, when I’m close to the mound of sticks and branches we use as part of our obstacle course, I jam the tip of my spear into the dirt. I leap with all my might, push against the spear as hard as I can to propel myself up and over the pile of wood and, just at the peak of my leap when it looks like I really will manage to pull of this idiotic stunt of using a spear to pole-vault a woodpile, the spear breaks.

I fall into the woodpile with a crash, knocking branches everywhere. My back snaps against a particularly misshapen log and all the air is driven from my lungs. Momentum rolls me off the woodpile, and I take quite a few branches with me. My head, legs, and arms are all bashed painfully before I finally come to a stop.

My head hurts and I’m dizzy. The world’s gone a funny color and my ears might be ringing. Rather distantly I can hear Sam and Simon shouting. I’m too concerned with getting my breath back to care.

A shadow blocks out the wrong-colored sky and most of the painful sunlight. A person, kneeling down over my head. I blink a few times, and my vision clears a little. “Hey, Sara,” I wheeze, hoping I don’t sound to pitiful.

“What are you knuckleheads doing?” She demands, her voice painfully loud.

“Sara, don’t yell at Five, it was all my fault—“ Sam’s voice starts.

Simon cuts him off. “No, it was _my_ fault. My spear and my idea! Sam, see if you can find the blade somewhere. I might be able to fix it still.”

“Yeah, OK, but I’m the one who actually asked Five to do it! That makes it my fault!”

“Only cause I’m holding your Marmite hostage to get back at you for that last prank you played on me!”

Sara looks sternly down at me, ignoring the petty argument breaking out ten feet away. “Five?” she growls, both a question and a command.

I motion with my hands for her to quiet down. My vision is mostly back to normal and I have my breath back, but my head is killing me. “Shhh, you’re gonna get us in trouble. I was using Simon’s spear to pole-vault that pile of wood.”

“Moron,” she grouses, standing up. Bright sunlight pierces my eyes and I groan, closing my eyes against the pain. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

Somebody, probably her, grabs my arms and hauls me to my feet. I sway a little, very unsteady and dizzy. I risk opening my eyes to glare at her, although my glare probably looks pretty pathetic considering the state I’m in. “You’re just like Janine,” I complain. I manage a haphazard salute. “Zero fun, sir.”

“Simon!” she shouts. “Simon, quit trying to repair your spear and get your ass over here. Help Five to the hospital tent, they need to be looked at. God knows what they’ve done to themselves thanks to your idiocy. Sam, I expected more from you! How could you let one of your runners endanger themselves likes this?”

“Right you are, Sara,” Simon says primly. He seizes one of my arms and hauls it over his shoulders. He’s too tall and broad for that to be comfortable for me, especially considering the bashing I just took, but I don’t care enough to complain. “Get their other side, Sam.”

“Sorry, Five,” Sam says mournfully, pulling my other arm over his shoulders in a much gentler fashion. “I thought you’d make it.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, limping slightly as they help me along. My everything hurts, but I have priorities. “Did it look cool until I crashed?”

“It looked _sick_ ,” Simon assures me.  “Totally rad. In terms of awesomeness, nothing will ever come close to that performance, Five.”

“So it was awful and was as painful to watch as it was to experience?”

“Yeah, but we love you for trying.”


End file.
